The artistically done setting sun on the top of his right caught Alek’s eye. On its own it would signify freedom. Vasily’s had a thick strike through it, which meant he’d never be free of this life. If he could walk away, would he? Alek had never asked because he wouldn’t have wanted the question to imply he was seeking the information for his own benefit. As violent and sometimes corrupt as their world was, it was all Alek had ever known, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to find a home anywhere else.
“Lucian has gotten himself involved.”
Lucian Fane was the single most powerful of all the leaders. In complete contrast to Vasily, the Romanian ran his legitimate business empire side-by-side with his not-so-legitimate one, and he had enough heavy hitters in his pocket to save him from having to completely hide that fact. He was feared, and rightly so. Lucian’s ruthless reputation was well-earned from actions taken when deemed necessary. There was no such thing as a warning from the Fane camp.
Reaching across to pull a napkin from the pretty dispenser Sacha had brought home one afternoon after a trip to Chelsea Market, Alek wrapped up his apple core and was tempted to take a shot of the vodka after all.
“What is it about the situation that interests him?”
“Our associates are drawing away until this is dealt with, and that’s being discussed. Lucian doesn’t want the attention it’s bringing to our deals.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t pulled out.”
“He’s confident his reputation will make it so our problem doesn’t target him or the business we’re doing with him, namely the four cargo ships he is now monopolizing.”
Alek was properly impressed. “Four?”
“He’s moving a lot of product between here and Europe; steel, construction equipment, building supplies that are going out weekly. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was building his own fucking city.”
“Wouldn’t shock me,” Alek murmured, his business side tingling to get involved. The Romanian would certainly be able to afford it. “I see Gotham when I picture it.”
Vasily smirked. “The vampire-turn-bat thing. Yeah, that gets me a lot too when Lucian is in the room. Must be his heritage. Never joke about that with him. He’s…sensitive.”
“I’ve seen his ‘sensitive’.”
“It’s pretty impressive. To people like us, I mean.” Spinning his glass on it’s edge, he caught it before it rolled away. “Apparently, one of Lucian’s men had a sit-down with the clerk who has taken a couple of calls from our snitch. He gets an outline and then forwards the info onto our friend, Detective Smythe. Eight of the eleven calls they’ve received have come from a number that can’t be traced by the NYPD. Lucian gave it to his people and it led his boys to my warehouse in Brighton Beach.”
Shock had Alek sitting back with a thump. “What the fuck? This son of a bitch is that close?”
Vasily nodded. “The other three calls were made from an untraceable cell that came from an unknown location in Nassau County.”
Alek’s stomach rolled in a sickening wave. They lived in Nassau County.
“Now, I understand that’s a large area, but it’s our area. My main residence is there. So is yours. This bastard is close enough to have the ability to enter my office at the warehouse without causing suspicion. And he hasn’t only made his calls from our area, he’s been invited into my home. I trust him enough to have left him unsupervised for the length of time it took him to get into my private files and find the paper trail that led him to Eva’s mother.”
Holy shit. “What paper trail?” Alek knew very little about Kathryn Jacobs. Basically, only that she existed. He’d heard Eva talk about her as a daughter would her mother, but never Vasily.
“When I left them,” his uncle surprised him by saying, making it appear Alek’s ignorance on the subject was about to change. “I arranged for a solicitor to contact Kathryn with a story of an uncle of hers who died without a next-of-kin. His ‘estate’ went to her, and a deposit was made into her account every month.” He got to his feet and went over to stand before the window. “I left her completely alone with a three-month-old infant. She had no support. Her father had been a state trooper who’d been killed when she was fourteen. Her mother—who I never got a chance to meet but who sounded like a bitch—had moved back to France, her home country, the year before I met Kathryn.”
Vasily turned back to the room, and Alek noted his stare was unfocused. His uncle was no longer here with him but in the past.